Another Wednesday, another snippet from my current WIP, UNDER AN ASSASSIN’S MOON. A journey starts with one step. A book starts with one word. Journey had a farewell tour. A couple of times. There are long treks, short trips, and sentimental journeys. (Random fact: I can still play the opening bars of that song on a piano…) Today’s #1lineWed theme of JOURNEY takes all that into account. In today’s snippet, our intrepid CIA assassin (not spoiler, this will be point out in the blurb) is getting ready to journey out on assignment. This book should be coming out August 28th!
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Had Zeta been anyone else she would probably walk away from this assignment. The information in the dossier Littleton provided was at least a week out of date. Tracking wasn’t part of her job description. She came in only after the target had been pinned down to a location and spent just enough time watching the mark to finalize her attack. Going over her handler’s head would upset him but she was past caring. He’d become careless. Wasting her time and her value as an asset like this was the final straw. The call she placed went up the chain of command by several levels.

Unruffled, as was her usual public demeanor, she waited for her contact to be located and the call transferred.

“Ms. Cordero.” The deep voice should have stirred something inside her. Nelson Conrad had the face, physique, and charisma to set hearts aflutter, no matter the gender. He always seemed disconcerted when his charm had no affect on her. “I wasn’t expecting a call from you.”

Why would he? She wasn’t one of the greasy wheels. She did her job, cleanly and professionally, kept a low profile at all times, and never made waves. Until now.

“Are you aware of my current assignment?”

There was a pause and she heard papers shuffling before the clacking of a computer keyboard. “I am. Is there a problem?”

“I am currently at least a week behind. My sales lead was not viable.” Double speak. In the current climate, the spies spied on each other, as did the the watchdogs. Wet work wasn’t discussed in polite company nor over phone lines, secure or not.

Another period of silence. “I see. This could prove problematic. Are you in a position to make future sales calls on this vendor?”

No. That wasn’t in her job description but there was something in the tenor of Conrad’s voice that put her on alert. She considered possibilities and contingencies. “If given a larger travel allowance and flexibility.”

“I’ll make a few calls and send you an updated itinerary.”

They ended the call simultaneously with no polite pleasantries.

Zeta dragged one of her duffel bags closer, unzipped it, and pulled out the small metal case. Using the print from the little finger of her left hand to unlock it, she set about cleaning the parts of the sniper rifle contained inside. At worst, she had a few hours to kill and she was never one to just sit around while on a sales call.
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So Zeta is heading out. I’ll give you a hint, I hope she packed a bikini. 😉 What about y’all? What’s your favorite kind of journey? Do you have in journey words to share?

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About Silver James

I like walks on the wild side and coffee. Lots of coffee. Warning: My Muse runs with scissors. Author of two award-winning series--Moonstruck and The Penumbra Papers, Red Dirt Royalty (Harlequin Desire) & other books! Purveyor of magic, mystery, mayhem and romance. Lots and lots of romance.

2 Responses to Wednesday Words: Not So Sentimental Journey

Let’s see… I think I have a little something from Ugly and the Beast that might fit. It needs a bit of a lead-in… Jeni is trying to get her five-year old nephew to give them some information that will help them find her brother and she’s just asked about her brother’s friends.

“Mostly they came over. Mostly. But sometimes Daddy would take me on trip. A special surprise. Just for us boys, he said. And we’d drive to a big house in the country and meet all his friends.”
“And what did you do there?” I was afraid of the answer, but I had to know.
“I drank punch and ate cookies and played with the gray lady’s kitty. It was gray, too. With white mittens on its paws and long white whiskers.”
“And who was the Gray Lady?”
“Daddy told me to call her Mrs. Blanding. She was nice. Mostly.”
Poor, little Joshy’s face turned bleak as he obviously tried avoid remembering the times she was not-nice.
“That’s okay, Joshy. We don’t need to know about that.” Surrell must’ve interviewed kids before because those words saved the day. “Can you tell us anything about where she lives or the outside of her house?”
“Or maybe about things you saw on the drive to her house?” Rose’s return to the room came at the right time, too. Her prompt was awesome. Personally, I had nothing. I was tongue tied as my brain filtered through the things my brother might’ve exposed a little boy to. If Josh hadn’t already disappeared, I would’ve made him disappear myself. With pain. Lots and lots of pain.
Joshy brightened up a little. “I saw a big, pink building. And then a man twirling a big sign. And then,” he said, pulling himself up as proud as a little boy can be, “I saw where we had my birthday party. There was a humongous cake and presents everywhere and a lady clown who made animals with balloons. Why weren’t you at my birthday party, Aunt Jeni?”
My inability to speak turned into an inability to breathe.